Memoirs of the Unforgiven
by ForeverLostx
Summary: Second Generation. Based on the Hogwarts life of a young girl, Mia Thorne, and the fight between her hearts desire and the life she wants - and doesn't want.
1. Chapter 1

The air was crisp and cold, biting at my shivering, fragile skin.

The silence was deafening, the sound of my laboured breathing my only company in this deserted, dark room.

The smell was a mixture of sweat, blood and tears. All mine. All unwillingly taken.

I sat in my damp corner with a blank, unfeeling expression smeared across my stained face. I didn't know what to feel or think anymore; I was so sad, so unforgivably broken. I wasn't sure whether I'd ever recover from this ordeal.

With an inward groan, I shuffled over a little to make myself comfortable - even if it was an undoubtedly impossible task. I couldn't move my arms at all; the restricting chains secured around my wrists ensured that. I didn't have my wand, didn't even know where it was. It bothered me - probably more than anything else. It was a part of me and when it was missing, I just felt_ wrong_.

For the hundredth time that day, I let a tear dribble down my cheek and onto my torn dress, wondering how I had gotten myself into a situation like this.

My name was Amalia, _Mia_, Thorn, the daughter of Sebastian and Clarissa Thorne; rich, aristocratic and powerful. I wasn't meant to end up like this - missing, dead to the world, dead to _myself._ That wasn't supposed to be my future.

I dipped my head and heard to cracking of stiff bones. I couldn't even remember how long I had sat here in the darkness. I couldn't see anything, but I didn't have to - the emptiness was crushing, forcing me into the only walls I could reach. Along with my hopes and dreams of getting out of here, that corner was my only comfort; at least I knew what was in that corner. I didn't know what else lurked that dark gloom, hunting.

Things used to be so perfect. My life used to be so perfect. _He_ used to be so perfect.

He _lied_. Just like his Father.

He _tortured_.Just like his Father.

He _murdered_.Just like his Father.

And yet I still remembered the first time.

* * *

><p>"<em>Donovan Kane."<em>

The boy with the jet black hair stood upon the platform, his clean and ironed robes hanging loosely at his sides. With genuine curiosity, I watched among the crowd of new first years as he sat on the rickety stool, awaiting the first proud moment in his Hogwarts life. He seemed to know exactly what was going to happen - that cocky, confident smile curving on his pale lips told it all.

The hat grumbled and blinked feverishly. Even though it was only a hat - well, a _talking_ hat, it was clear it was uncomfortable. It didn't seem to like Donovan, not at all. I should have trusted it's judgement then. I would have saved myself a lot of heartbreak.

Almost instantly after being set upon Donovan's ebony hair, the hat screamed out the predictable, _"Slytherin!"_

To my left, the Slytherin's, dressed in their customary green and silver, jeered and cheered with such ferocity that the room actually vibrated. Donovan stood up proudly, a beaming smile pasted across his pale skin, and I watched silently, the only new first year that wasn't whispering about the strange-looking boy.

It wasn't that he looked _strange_, just… unusual. In my eleven years, I had never seen such black hair and such pale, transparent skin. And his eyes… they were still undecided. I couldn't tell what colour they were - in the shadows, they looked dark brown, in the light, they flecked grey and green. He did have a handsome face, however, which was probably the main reason the girls, in particular, liked to stare. He was tall and slightly lanky, but not unattractively so - he was the perfect Prince of Darkness.

Donovan strode towards the table and perched himself at the end beside the others who had been placed there - Liza Strange, Zoey Carlisle and Jacob Lark. They all had that superior look smacked across their puffy faces.

"_Amalia Thorne."_

I was staring at the Slytherin's still when my name was called clearly into the large hall, silencing the older students. My name always had that effect; the Thorne family were famous for a number of reasons among the Wizarding world. We were wealthy, owned a number of businesses, had a lot of influence in the Ministry - my Uncle, Julian Thorne, was the Minister of Magic. But most of all, we were the Wizards keeping everyone else in line. We were the modern version of Dumbledores Army.

"Mia! It's your turn!" I heard a fierce whisper behind me, and that's when I realized it was my moment.

I stepped up, gulping down the bile that threatened to pour from my throat, and sat upon the edge of the stool. I was always quite small and I couldn't keep my feet on the floor if I sat up properly - I didn't trust myself without them being planted firmly, not with my balance.

The hat was placed on and, unsurprisingly, it felt heavy and sticky on my blonde hair. It sounds strange, but I could feel the hat creeping through my thoughts like an unwanted visitor. I hated it, every long second that dragged by that the hat was deciphering my from the inside. Panicking, I diverted my eyes around the room nervously, glancing at all the awaiting tables, wondering whether they would be achieving the Thorne this year. I felt like a piece of meat.

And then I saw him again, staring at me with the most content look I had ever seen him possess at that time. Gazing into my eyes, he seemed normal and, almost, kind and welcoming.

It took me that long to discover his eyes were black.

"_Gryffindor!"_


	2. Chapter 2

Yet again, I woke up to darkness and gloom.

Sometimes, I wasn't sure whether I was still awake or dreaming - this whole situation just didn't seem real. Things like this didn't happen and nobody was supposed to die needlessly anymore, but here I was, brushing dangerously with death as I starved at the hands of someone I loved - or, rather, _love_.

Sometimes, I speculated if I even had my sight. All I had seen for a long time was shadows and, occasionally, the odd speck of light that flooded this concrete room when _they_ came to check on me. Whether it was to make sure I was still alive, or even if I was dead yet, I wasn't sure. I slept most of the time, through the lack of food and water, and even though they dropped in a little bit bread every now and then, it wasn't enough. Every time I woke I could feel my body getting slimmer.

Most of these boys - yes, they were practically children - couldn't even hold their wands without blasting themselves in the face. I couldn't imagine any of them would want to have my blood on their hands, so instead, they're letting me die naturally. As if any of this was natural.

Sometimes, I wondered if anyone was looking for me. My parents? Probably. I was Daddy's little girl, his youngest daughter and his angelic princess. My three sisters? Unlikely - I got on with them all, sure, but they were all materialistic gold-diggers. They're probably thriving in the public limelight. My only brother? I hoped so. If there was anything I wanted right now, it was to see Alec bust through the walls of this prison and take me away to my home.

But no one would ever find me. I knew that. I could feel it.

As much as I wanted to make my way out by myself - and believe me, I've tried - I just didn't have the strength to try anymore. I had no energy and absolutely no will to move.

My head shot up from it's slumped position to the sound of metal on metal; the heavy door.

Before I could say anything, or try to, the door opened wide and the room lit up so bright I couldn't keep my fragile eyes open. It was so painful and, strangely, so foreign to see the natural light again. Slowly, my eyes opened as narrow slits. Things were very blurry, unnaturally so, and for a horrible, stomach-clenching moment, I thought I might be going blind. But I wasn't; soon enough, things became a little clearer only to reveal the familiar silhouette of _him_…

Sitting at the back of the room, my first day of potions had left me rather tired. Sure, the teacher was quite nice - I suppose, but the work was difficult. My brain didn't think like it should for this class and for some reason, I couldn't comprehend the differences between one fluid and the next, whether it was their nasty smell or their unnatural colours.

Staring at the grubby textbook in front of me, I allowed my mind to wander off into a world that I used to know; my father and his obsession with buying me all kinds of gifts, my mother and her love for baking, using me for the testing of her newest creations, my three older sisters and my brother that I only saw twice a year because they were studying at Hogwarts all year round and the very little friends I had because I had always been home-schooled. It was a good life - I would never say otherwise.

"Miss Thorne, I don't suppose you'd like to tell the class what-" the door of the potions class was thrown open and I blinked feverishly, the natural sunlight hitting me in the face. I stared and slowly I realised that the silhouette of a boy was outlined in a soft, yellow glow. Before I had time to comprehend who it was, in stalked Donovan, an air of excellence and arrogance hovering around him. In this shadow, he looked magnificent, you could even say he thrived, but automatically, I decided I didn't like him - or, rather, I didn't _want _to like him.

Donovan was exactly the kind of person my father told me to stay away from. He was the 'bad' kind.

"Sorry Professor, I was…" Donovan trailed off, an adorable half-smile curving on his equally-pale lips. He stood only a metre away from me since I sat in the back row by myself and, I swear, I could feel power _radiating_ from him. Without realizing I was doing it, I was automatically recoiling away from him. Donovan shrugged, casually throwing his shoulders without a care in the world.

"You were _what_, Mr Kane?" Professor Wolfe raised a sceptical eyebrow, arching it over his eye in a very unimpressed manner. _Uh-oh…_ I thought, staring at the kinks in the wood of my desk.

"I slept in. My dear apologies…" he mumbled, clearly very unimpressed and not-at-all bothered. He didn't sound very sorry.

"In future, you _will not_ be late to my class. Is that clear?" Wolfe's tone was, to me, utterly terrifying. I was a quite girl and it took me a while to break out of my scared shell. "Take a seat. Quickly."

From what I could see from the side of my eye, Donovan nodded politely, his abnormally-dark hair falling over his also abnormally-dark eyes. I was only eleven, but it didn't take a genius to realize this boy _had_ to be carved personally by the angels. His face was perfectly symmetrical apart from his slightly-crooked lips, but that was by no means an imperfection. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, allowing his cheeks to curve inwards and define his strong jaw. There was still some baby fat clinging to his face, making it a little chubbier that it would be in the future, but anyone could tell that soon enough, the upper half of his face would be broader than the lower.

Before I knew what was happening, Donovan had sat himself neatly at the same desk as me, just centimetres from where I sat. I didn't know why he made me feel the way I felt; I just didn't understand those feelings yet, but right from the beginning, I knew they were bad. I shouldn't have them, but that didn't helped matters; you always follow your heart, right?

"Hi," he whispered, lowering his head to duck behind the students in front of us, "I'm Donovan."

I turned, my long, dirty-blonde hair cascading over my shoulders like a waterfall of gold. "I know who you are," I mumbled back, trying to make as little effort to make conversation as possible.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" he asked, sounding genuinely hurt. I felt bad, despite what my head was telling me.

"Mia," I responded curtly.

"That's a nice name, Mia," he smiled, his black eyes shining in the candlelight. I watched him for a few seconds, my eyes narrowing in suspicion, and he did the same, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. I blinked first, of course, and then I looked in the opposite direction with a low sigh. I was so confused.

"You're not going to talk to me?" God, he just wasn't going to stop!

"I'm trying to listen!" I scolded, my eyebrows furrowing in frustration. As much as I wanted him to leave me alone, I really _did_ want to talk to him. It annoyed me - I wanted to take control of my own feelings, I didn't like that this boy was controlling them.

"So? You don't even like potions," he retorted back with a scoff.

"And how would _you_ know that? You don't know me," I turned full-on, shock all over my face as I glared at this arrogant young man.

"I don't have to…" he shrugged again, for the second time in five minutes, and reached for his wand. It looked around thirteen-inches, perhaps maple wood, and was expertly carved without a kink. I stared at it, impressed, though I would never like it as much of my own; eleven-and-a-half inches Holly with a Unicorn hair core. It was like my child.

With his wand, Donovan swished it just a little, enough to allow a dull, amber glow emit from the tip. I watched as he burned the words, "I can read you like a book", in the parchment in front of me.


End file.
